Yuki no Usagi 雪の兎
by scaredfox
Summary: Never did I imagine I would be reborn into the universe of Naruto, nor did I imagine I would possess such a hated bloodline limit, but fate seemed to love toying with me. OC self-insert.
1. Prologue

Prologue

 _Chapter Song: Dead Battery - Stay (feat. Lea Santee)_

Death. A simple, but much feared, concept.

Maybe because it's the only thing we know will inevitably happen. From the moment we're born, it's the only thing we are truly promised. Whether it be just after our first breath, or after years of countless intakes, we all know we will one day take our last, and our lungs will be filled no more.

And that—the fact that our own demise is the only definite factor of our life—is undeniably and utterly _terrifying._

I was always one of those who claimed not be scared of dying; not quite of death itself, but dying at least. I knew myself it was all an act, and I really was fearful of losing my life, but I knew it would happen at some point. I knew I would die, so I tried to accept that. 'Tried' being the key word. I was never quite successful with my attempt.

I wasn't prepared to die so young. I had imagined myself living a full life. I had imagined myself dying at a relatively old age, perhaps even married with children. After having achieved things. After being able to live.

But, merely a few months from turning fifteen, I died.

Stripped of the entire life ahead of me. Or, whatever life I thought I had ahead of me.

How I died isn't necessarily important. It was a car crash—a simple, quick death. My death was the result of a drunk driver and a tortuous road on a night where two cars were seemingly fated to collide. Well, if you believed in that kind of stuff.

I doubt my mother survived. All I remember is the two seconds of fear before we made impact, and then there was nothing. My life, gone.

I honestly do not know what deity had heard my last plea, but I guess my yearning for my stolen future didn't go unheard.

I don't know what my fate was, or what it is. I don't know whether or not I was meant to die on that night, or whether I was meant to remember anything from my previous life.

But I did know one thing. About one thing, I was certain.

I was given a second chance.

I no longer was a teenage girl from England, who had been filled with hope and optimism, and tried to live ignorant to the cruel realities of her own world. No, that girl was well and truly dead.

But, on the day she died, I, Byakuren Yuki, was born.

…or, should I say, reborn?

* * *

 _If I touch the wind, would I be carried away?_

* * *

 **© Masashi Kishimoto**


	2. I: White

**Not entirely happy with this chapter, but oh well.**

* * *

White

 _Chapter song: Aether - Dear Lillie_

It took me a while to realise I was within the, as some would call it, 'Narutoverse'. A while being several years.

I had entered the world as I had left the last—screaming. Being born simply wasn't an enjoyable process, even if I couldn't fully comprehend exactly what was happening at the time.

The first year was pure confusion. Well, I did begin to figure out, to a certain degree, what had happened to me. I had been reincarnated, with all my previous memories intact. That was the first, and only, conclusion I could really think of. I did ponder over the possibility of being in a coma, but, once I was able to consider all of the variables, it didn't seem entirely logical. Then again, I say that as if reincarnation or rebirth are.

I truly didn't know whether having all my memories was a blessing or a curse. There wasn't much to do as a baby, so I was always left with my thoughts, contemplating which one of the two I should consider it; I constantly wondered what I could've been doing in my previous life had I not died, and thought of the infinite ways my memories could assist me in this life.

I think I freaked my parents out by how quiet I was at times. I would spend hours on end in pure silence, only crying when I was hungry, needed to be changed (I detested having soiled undies), or when I couldn't handle my emotions. They were a fickle thing—even more so with my thrown off hormones, infant body and the mind of a teenage girl that was desperately trying to align with the baby mental state I should've had.

Trying to understand people was also a struggle. I did have prior knowledge of Japanese, but it was minimal. It certainly wasn't enough to understand an entire conversation. I could understand certain words and sentences, but nothing more. Of course, like any growing mind of a child, I began to understand it, and most probably faster than a majority of children would.

I was roughly nine months old when I said my first word: rabbit. It was after I had seen a rabbit run across our garden. My mother used to point them out to me, saying their name in hope that I would repeat it back to her, and, one day, I did. My tongue had stumbled over each syllable, but, nonetheless, I had said it. "Uh-ah-gi". _Usagi_.

Part of me felt bad that that was the first word I said as opposed to one of my parents' names, but I corrected that within the next week. My mother's face had lit up just as much, if not more, when I was able to call her mum. I knew I could've taken the easy route and stuck to my English roots and call her "mama" instead of the Japanese translation—which is what I had opted for—but it was too similar to what I addressed my mother in that life as, so I didn't wish to use that name. It wasn't to detach myself from her, but more so she wasn't a replacement.

We only ever saw snow rabbits, since we lived somewhere where it snowed a lot. The winters were purely snow. Not that I was complaining. I enjoyed the snow. It was cold, yes, but beautiful. It was like an ice kingdom sitting outside our window.

There just weren't any indications so far that I could've possibly been in a universe I had once viewed as purely fictional. Whatsoever. I presumed I was reborn as a Japanese child, to a poor, but very joyous, family, presumably living in Japan. In Hokkaido, or something.

The lack of modern appliances led me believe I had been born in a century prior to the twenty first, but the obvious 'western' influence on the things we owned, no matter how traditional our home was, suggested I hadn't been born too much before. Definitely no more than about a hundred or so years, which is why I was confused when I heard my parents talking about ninja. _Ninja_.

Still being ignorant to the fact I was living in a world riddled with chakra wielding ninjas, I had only known of 'real' ninjas that had only been around in feudal Japan; not the twentieth, or even nineteenth, century. And, unless they were historians who were fanatical on the topic of ninja, there really shouldn't have been a reason for them to talk about them so often. And they weren't. They were farmers (when the weather allowed) so that confused me in my early years.

But my life as a toddler hadn't been _complete_ confusion. No, I was happy as well. Playing with my brother Haku was something I certainly enjoyed. Well, it was more like he was playing with me, since I couldn't really do much else than crawl, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. He was only a year and a half older than me, and, in all honesty, I had thought he was a girl before I heard his name.

My family was happy. Again, we were poor, but happy. I wasn't exactly poor in my previous life; there were times of financial struggle, so we weren't wealthy by any means, but I could still afford a lot more than a lot of people could. I think I often took that for granted. The whole happy thing was…debatable. Arguments did start often, and there certainly were a lot of moments I wished to forget from my past, but they were still my family.

It was hard to accept this family as my own at first. But I did. I didn't know I had been thrown into some supposedly fictional universe. Simply reborn. So, I began to accept it. I began to accept the name Byakuren as my own.

The meaning of my name was 'white lotus', and was supposedly a poetic way of saying purity. My brother struggled to say my full name, and shortened it to 'Byaku', making both our names mean nothing more than white. I liked it, so I didn't protest. Soon enough, the nickname became the more commonly used one within our family.

I was three when I first saw myself in the mirror. My face didn't differ too greatly from my brothers, especially due to our age. His had become slightly more masculine, even with the feminine features, but there was no stark contrast. My colouring was rather simple too, the darkest brown eyes, pale skin, deep brown, or debatably even black hair, which really only encouraged the notion that I was nothing more than Japanese.

My parents stopped talking about ninja once our language developed further.

It didn't take long for me to develop the ability to speak Japanese—and well, at that. Hiragana and Katakana wear also easy to learn. Kanji was a bitch, and I mean a bitch, but Hiragana and Katakana were simply phonetic lettering systems, so I didn't struggle too greatly while reading or writing.

Until the age of seven, my childhood was simple. Nothing truly noteworthy happened. Again, until I was seven.

It was merely an ordinary winter morning. Just an ordinary morning, like any other. Haku and I were playing in the snow, like any other day. I guess I was particularly adamant to defend myself from the snowball he was preparing to throw at me, and I just happened to be standing by a bit of unfrozen water while blocking the blow.

I lifted my arms to shield my face, and a wall of ice did too.

Both I and Haku fell silent. That wasn't normal. By any means. That was so, so—

"Cool! How do I do that too?!" Haku beamed. My face blanched.

I didn't move. I only continued to stare, dumbfounded and, quite frankly, scared

Haku, in all his fascination, began to gently wave his hands above the water, and the wall in front of me began to dissipate. I still didn't move. What the _hell_ was that?

"Look! Look! Byaku, look!" And so, I did, only to see him manipulating the water.

A gasp came from behind us, and we both turned. There stood my mother, a look of horror marring her face.

Why did this seem so familiar?

"Kaa-san, look! Look, look! Isn't it amazing?"

The laundry she was holding dropped to the floor, and she grabbed his arm.

"Why…? Why you too…?" She began.

The scene was becoming irritatingly recognisable, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. All I was focusing on was my mother—my lovely, gentle mother—grabbing my brother. She began to shake him vigorously, and tears didn't hesitate to form in my eyes, but silence still constricted my throat. I was shocked. For so many reasons, I was shocked.

"Why?! Why does he have it too?!" She shrilled, "This can't be!"

Then there was the sound of a smack. I gasped, stumbling backwards. She slapped him. She slapped Haku.

After a moment of silence, a look of realisation dawned upon her face, and she pulled him into a hug, hysterically crying while apologies left her mouth. I could no longer ignore the familiarity of this scene.

I vigorously searched my memory, searching for anything that could've happened like this in the past. Nothing came to mind. It irked me to no end. Why the hell was this so familiar?

 _Ice? Haku? Ice?_

My eyes widened. Haku…of the ice release…

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, _no._

* * *

 _I'm trapped within this world that someone planned out for us._

 _Our fate and future starts crumbling to dust._


	3. II: Coldest

Coldest

 _Chapter song: Yutaka Yamada - Licht und Schatten_

I couldn't sleep that night. I curled further into my sheets, attempting to squeeze my eyes further shut. But my attempt proved futile. There was only so much sight could block. The memories and questions kept swarming my mind regardless. The scene of Haku and I doing something which should've been utterly impossible kept replaying, like a tape stuck on repeat. An endless loop, making me feel as though I had imagined it all. As though I were going insane.

Looking out at the moonlit sky, I grimaced. It mocked me; it was so _real_. How dare it mimic reality to such a degree? It shouldn't have been more than a sketch. This world was nothing more than animated drawings.

Empty. I felt so _empty_. Never in both my lives had I felt like this—if I could even call my current supposed existence a life. Naruto was merely a thing of imagination. A figment of Masashi Kishimoto's imagination. It was a manga. A fictional universe consisting of fictional things. Chakra and ninjas and all things impossible. There was no way—there was no way this was real. There was absolutely no way it could be!

But _I_ was real. My previous life was real. The last seven years of my life _felt_ completely _real_.

I was so conflicted. Part of me, undeniably, hoped this _was_ real. That same part of me also questioned how it was anything but real. It couldn't have been fake. My emotions, the emotions of those around me, the love displayed by that— _my_ —family couldn't have been fake. Surely not…

And, if it was, then what god damn divinity was screwing with me? What the hell had I done to deserve whatever the hell this was? Whose bloody great idea was it to throw me into a possibly fake universe after stripping me of my future, oh, and, you know, making me realise after seven years of growing close to people who may not even exist?!  
Why—why was I reborn into a character—a character that didn't even exist in the first place?

What was my purpose? Why was I here? Had I been dreaming for the last seven years?

I began to cry for what felt like the twentieth time that night. I hated to pity myself, I truly did, but I couldn't help it. This universe was a cruel one. I didn't even know what I wanted to do from that point onwards. I knew what happened to Haku. To his— _my_ mother. I knew what would happen to me. My father—no, _he_ would…he would attempt to kill us all. And I didn't know what to do. He had seen. I didn't know when he would gather the people of our town, and I didn't know how to defend myself. I hadn't been training to become a ninja like most 'main characters' of this world. I was a civilian. I was a child.

We could run, but where? I didn't know where anything was. I didn't have the motivation to get myself up, although I had to. What the hell was I meant to do? I was seven.

In fact, I didn't even know if I was seven. Physically, yes, but where the hell was I mentally? Twenty-one? Did seven years of growth from a baby to a child really count as gaining the mentality of an adult? Especially when your mind was constantly trying to revert back to that of your physical form? Was I fourteen still?

I didn't know what I was. I didn't know _who_ I was. I had long ago accepted the death of my old self, and taken this life's name as my own, but, now, I wasn't so sure.

So, _who am I?_ That was the question of the night. Also, the question of not one, but two lifetimes. The girl from before felt foreign, but this one felt feigned. Both felt real, but I didn't know if this one was fake…

I think this is what one would describe as a mental breakdown. The ultimate existential crisis, even.

I was so lost. Was someone, somewhere, laughing? Was this the work of Satan or karma?

 _Do I continue living?_ Was the last question I asked myself, before fatigue took me.

* * *

I woke up to a scream. An ear-piercing, heart wrenching scream. Even though I had never heard it before, I recognised the voice of who it belonged.

It was at the break of dawn my mother's life was taken, and in came the storm.

I ran down the stairs, panicked, like any child would. I knew what had happened, but that didn't stop my small feet from sprinting as if my life depended on it. Well, actually, it did.

I was greeted with a sight I would never forget. Blood, each wall, the floor, the face of my father, painted in blood. He looked at me with red, puffy eyes, and his tears didn't refrain from falling. My gaze left his, falling onto the corpse on the floor. The body of my mother, my beautiful, beautiful mother, disfigured by the man who continued to tower over me. I screamed.

My scream then became strangled, turning to mere gasps begging for air as he grabbed my neck. Pinned against a wall, the villagers cheered. My father, my potential killer, wore an emotionless face. His eyes, devoid of life, continued to stare into mine as I struggled in vain to release his grasp from my only supply of air. I gritted my teeth, but terror was the only expression I held. Pure fear was all I felt.

In each life, I had accomplished nothing, and, in each life, I had a pitiful end. Fate seemed to love toying with me.

But, then, there was ice.

My father's mouth dropped, and he coughed. Blood rolled down his chin, and onto my cheek, and I fell from his grasp. Ice. Ice had impaled him. The other villagers fell quiet, and I turned to the pyjama clad eight-year-old who stood at the bottom of the hall.

Haku had saved my life.

I ran to him, still shaking, like he. Physically, he looked so weak. Tears stained both his cheeks, and in such a small, frail body, his entire frame shook.

His bangs fell from his eyes. Eyes which held pure rage in them revealed themselves, and the villagers blanched.

Grabbing my hand, he whispered to me.

"I'm sorry." His words were, before then a fury of pillars erupted from the floor. Only around us did the ice not strike, but each wall, ceiling and villager was spiked.

He dragged me, running from the now destroyed house. The snow was unforgiving against my bare skin, but I already felt cold. The frost could incarcerate me, for all I cared.

A far enough distance from the house, his pace slowed, before his knees fell to the floor. In an entanglement of limbs, we held onto each other for dear life.

Since I was his, and he was my, only heat, on the coldest of nights.

* * *

 _Thou art all ice;_

 _Thy kindness freezes_


	4. III: Snowflakes

Snowflakes

 _Chapter Song: Ramseses B – Drift Away (ft. Veela)_

There are certain memories which serve as a plague to the mind.

And, just like a disease, they begin to take over.

Each time that memory finds a way to replay, you experience the same set of emotions, over and over.

Slowly, those emotions become the only thing you feel. They engulf you.

And they begin to creep into your dreams too, turning them into nightmares. You become scared to fall asleep.

The fear turns to terror; every time you close your eyes, it becomes more vivid. More intense. The memories become distorted, turning faces into demons—well, perhaps I subconsciously perceived them as that anyway, but that was beside the point.

You begin to see the things from that dream in real life far more frequently, and almost everything starts to work like an unavoidable reminder of that memory. And, every time, it'll replay. But, then again, it's rather hard to run away from a snow flake when winter's claws are constantly coiled around your throat.

But maybe I was just fated to be stuck in such a cycle.

If we are applying it solely to my situation, however, perhaps calling it a plague isn't the most accurate representation. It wasn't quite tainted, my mind. My emotions were becoming more lacklustre if anything. It was somewhat more…frozen. The waters of my mind, once calm and peaceful, had been greeted with a harsh wind, and the sub-zero cold was relentless in its pursuit to turn it to ice.

Ironic, isn't it? I was almost certain I already had enough ice running through my veins. I did have the blood of this cursed clan.

In all honesty, something about Danzo's corrupted system to make people void of emotion became appealing for a brief period of time during the month or so me and Haku travelled. Where we were travelling to, we didn't know, but we knew we couldn't exactly stay in our childhood home.

Even if we had been able to, I didn't want to. I'm sure my brother didn't want to either. It was just as I said, merely a poisoned memory. Although, we never exactly consulted each other regarding that, or about where we were going. We just kind of…walked.

I soon came to my senses regarding my insane desire of Danzo's dehumanizing ideals, however. The empty feeling in my chest seemed a bit better than becoming a mindless robot. Maybe that was a personal preference only I held, though.

The only reason I really did keep going was for my older brother. Well, disregarding probable survival instincts that is.

My doubt of this world being real seemed to fade slightly more each time I looked at him. Or each time he'd look at me. The pain in his eyes were real. The heat his hands emitted when he would grab onto mine, and the strained smile he would give me as a reassurance was real. Even if this world wasn't.

 _This_ was _my_ reality. I accepted that.

And, as humans, there's only so much pain we can take. I couldn't let myself constantly dwell on a past event I had no control over. In another world, Haku had faced this alone. And I didn't want to be weight he needed to drag along. Especially not in a world like this, where ninjas roam and murder lurks. Three wars had already occurred and soon there would be a fourth. It's not like _I_ could do anything about that though. I highly doubted I would be on any significance to the storyline. Even Haku was killed in just the first arc.

I couldn't let that happen to him this time.

Maybe I was just a plot device. I wasn't meant to exist in this world. But if I have any power to do anything at all here, I'd want to change that one little thing. My brother's death. Even if it cost me my own life. I didn't care how it could affect "Naruto's character development". I would protect my reality.

Our continuous walking did eventually let us reach a destination. A city. A city which was very much for civilians.

How we survived before that was trivial for the most part. It was simply scavenging and stealing for food, which didn't change when we arrived at the city. Begging was futile. The country was in economic strife. Once again humans showed me their true nature. They were selfish. Two underfed children were treated the same as dogs here. No remorse was shown towards us.

We were hungry and we were tired. But there was one thing we weren't, despite it being winter.

We weren't cold. Or rather, we weren't being affected by the cold.

I figured it out quite quickly. We still felt the cold, but our body didn't react the same. Any other child clothed so lightly in the winter for such a prolonged period of time would've died from hypothermia. But we didn't.

I came to the conclusion that our bloodline granted us some form of 'immunity'. I presumed that we could withstand a lowered body temperature, and were in a way _adapted_ to it. Perhaps even with the right training, it's possible for us to control our body temperature. I really had no idea. I mean, the concept of chakra was still one practically unbeknownst to me. I was familiar with it, but I had no idea how to mold or wield it. It was just a thing in my body. An energy that flowed around my limbs 'n' stuff.

I was living in a ninja world, but I was definitely not a ninja.

I knew at some point we would encounter Zabuza. My brother had travelled with him, and so far, this world was following the same storyline (with the addition of me) so I assumed that we would meet him. It was just a matter of _when_.

I also wasn't entirely sure if I wanted us to go with him when the time occurred. I was too scared of losing Haku.

But we were going to die out here eventually if we didn't go with him. We needed shelter, and we needed to be trained as ninja. We needed to be trained to protect ourselves. We needed to learn how to wield this bloodline, as much as I despised it. I was just worried that Haku would become loyal to him. That was something I didn't want. I wanted us to learn, then preferably leave. Somehow. I wanted to avoid that mission where my brother died at all costs.

I was the tiniest bit intrigued by learning to become a ninja, however. It seemed completely unreal. It was a much-normalised thing in this world, but to me having those abilities was beyond incomprehensible. It was a thing of movies and stories. But here, it was real. How something like chakra and basically magic ninja were real baffled me to no end, but this world had the science for it to be completely plausible and realistic.

It made me feel kind of bubbly, even under these circumstances. I detested this bloodline…but I had the ability to make so much from it. It was rare too. It was a curse in my eyes, but it made me wonder if a gift can be disguised as a curse.

A mumble came from my brother, but he was still asleep. Our current 'shelter', if it could even be called that, was located behind a large bin, and made out of cardboard and old blankets. It was at least something. I didn't like being asleep at the same time Haku was. I barely liked being asleep when he was awake. I was scared, in all honesty.

Most people here didn't care about us, that much was obvious, but I didn't know if the same threats lurked in this world as in the other. It was never mentioned in the manga, but I didn't know if there were people here who abducted children and exploited them. That thought terrified me.

It's scary when you're a child living on the street. I didn't care what my mental age was. In every respect, I was still an inexperienced, naïve, and scared child.

I really hoped that with all the danger and evil things that exist in this universe that potentially this one thing didn't exist, but, then again, I wonder if the sick desires that exists in some humans really differed based on the universe you existed in.

Barely anyone walked down these alley ways though. It was mostly just dogs. I usually adored dogs, but these were ones that had been abandoned and hurt. They were vicious. They didn't like humans. They just wanted food. You did see the odd pack of dogs though. They were the ones you really had to avoid. They were dangerous.

I did enjoy observing them nonetheless. I realised you can learn so much about human nature from watching the behaviour of the animal.

See, when some humans when are mistreated and alienated by the rest of society, they turn on the human race. They see no hope for mankind. They dislike humans. Just like some beaten and abandoned dogs. They believe every human to be the same. They think every one of them is out to harm them.

Sometimes humans join forces with other humans who either have the same goals as them or that share the same disdain towards humans. Just like dogs who form packs.

But there are some dogs who don't choose to be alone. There are some who just want to be loved. But they're reluctant and hurt. They're scared. They've endured a past which has lead them to not knowing who to trust, and sometimes trusting no one. Just like humans…

What did I think of humans? I had seen so much bad, but I knew of good too.

What if what's considered good and evil is merely a matter of perception? How do I decide what path to take in this life? Whose morals should I live by?

I was drawn away from my thoughts when Haku awoke. I needed to sleep myself, but I just couldn't bring myself to yet. I had been awake for quite some hours now, which was probably what had been leading my mind astray, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to.

"You're awake? Did you sleep?" He asked, still in a dazed state.

I nodded my head in response. I made sure not to make Haku aware of my lack of sleep. I didn't want to worry him. At the same time, I didn't know how worried he would get. He had only just about turned nine, since New Year had passed not too long ago in the city and his birthday was in early January. While I understood the children of this world were slightly smarter and more mature, but I didn't know just how smart Haku was.

He frowned. "You look tired."

It was hard to take him seriously with such a childish tone to his voice. It made me giggle slightly. "I'm fine, Haku." I assured, a slight smile tugging at my lips. That seemed to surprise him somewhat, but his features simply softened.

He stood himself up and began to stretch. "It's getting kind of boring being here. We should go on a walk."

I tilted my head to the side _. A walk?_

Noticing my confusion, he continued, "Exercise is good for you, you know."

Even though he was so young, he was still looking out for his little sister. He was still looking out for me. Honestly, it was one of the only things that kept me going. He was one of the only things keeping me going. I didn't admit it verbally, but I needed my brother. I couldn't see a point in continuing on without him. He was my motivation.

I was tired, but agreed regardless. "As long as our little place doesn't get stolen by animals."

And we began to walk. Again, the people of the city paid no attention to us. We were just dirt on the side of the road. You just needed to learn not to make eye contact with them if you want to avoid the faces they pull at you.

The city was rather boring itself. And, now that the New Year decorations were down, it had a very stony feel to it. It was just full grey concrete buildings. Even the suburbs on the outskirts of the city had a cold feel too them. It was depressing.

My small feet were cold against the snow, but it wasn't a sensation I was unfamiliar with. At least Haku's hand around mine radiated warmth.

Most of the trek was spent in silence, but it served as a distraction. I could at least focus on the things and people around me. It was a slight change in setting.

After however long, we stumbled across a park, one which we hadn't found before despite our various explorations of the metropolis. It was rather peaceful in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the central city. The snow was practically untouched, as was the frozen lake. The only marks left was that of our foot prints.

As much as I disliked snow, I couldn't help but find a beauty in it. It made everything look so heavenly.

Perhaps snow was God's way of making a dirty world seem clean.

My fatigue had grown more in the time we had spent wondering. The quietness and falling snow only contributed in lulling me to sleep.

I tugged at my brother's top, causing him to focus his attention on me. We were currently walking across the bridge which crossed the lake, which I was barely tall enough to see over. I pulled him toward the ground, making him sit against the side of the bridge, and cuddled myself into his side.

"Byaku, what are you doing?"

"Shh…" I waved my hand in front of his face. "Sleep..."

* * *

"Kids like you won't be needed by anyone and will die beggars."

A deep voice woke me, but I kept my eyes shut.

I felt my brother shift, and after a slight pause, he spoke. "You have the same eyes as us, Mister."

Alarm bells went off in my mind, and one name rang through it.

 _Zabuza._

* * *

 _Our minds are troubled by the emptiness._


	5. IV: Haze

**I'm not exactly the happiest with this chapter, but oh well. Writer's block is a bitch.**

* * *

Haze

 _Chapter Song: Lindsey Stirling – Crystallize_

 _"Kids like you won't be needed by anyone and will die beggars."_

 _A deep voice woke me, but I kept my eyes shut._

 _I felt my brother shift, and, after a slight pause, he spoke._

 _"You have the same eyes as us, Mister."_

 _Alarm bells went off in my mind, and one name rang through it._

 _Zabuza._

I opened my eyes.

And there it came. That near inexplicable feeling of nerves, anger, and fear—the near physical, and utterly gut wrenching, feeling of dread.

I can only really explain it as a bubble, or even an emptiness, that forms in the pit of your stomach. It's almost nausea invoking, but never quite. It only ever teeters, teasing. Eventually, it spreads to your chest, and then your throat, making it feel as if you're choking. Except, there's nothing to actually choke on.

Well, physically at least. I felt very much as if I was choking on my seemingly palpable fear. It almost made me wish I was actually choking. Then I'd be able feel it. Then I'd be able to do something about the insufferable constriction around my jugular.

This world was driving me insane.

Zabuza's very image was daunting to me. He stood over us, his height reaching about 6ft, which, to my tiny self, seemed like a skyscraper had just been placed in front of me. I looked up, my eyes noticing the hitai-ate that he donned on his forehead. Despite the fact it was marred with dents and scratches and was threading at the seams, it was in good enough condition to reflect the moonlight perfectly so that the engravings on it were particularly emphasised. The emblem of Kirigakure. A thing which I could never recall in my mind yet seemed so starkly familiar to me when I saw it. I could no longer pretend I was anywhere else but the Narutoverse.

The nausea washed over me.

In that moment, I was truly reminded of where I was.

I was reminded of how real this was.

Of how weak I was.

That 'feeling' evoked from my realisation of exactly how alone I really was in this reality. Of how trapped I was in my own mind. Of how no one would understand the pain or suffering I had experienced. No one would ever understand. I suppose my brother understood seeing your father kill your mother and attempt to kill you, but…he hadn't been ripped from one world and put in another. He understood living homeless and hungry, but he hadn't died only to reborn with every single memory still intact. He didn't know the pain of not knowing what was and wasn't actual and existent and real.

He wasn't thrown into a goddamned _anime._

 _They were just drawings. They were just drawings!_

I had told myself I had accepted that this was my reality, but it wasn't that easy. My brother wasn't a ninja yet, but Zabuza was. Zabuza _is_.

This man was but a fictional character to me before now. I really hadn't fully processed the fact that he was real. He was a real person. This man, who had killed so many. This man who was affiliated with a ninja village who raised children to become merciless killers. A village that was once known as the "Village of the Bloody Mist". The village that caused my clan to go into hiding. The village that caused my brother and _me_ to be so hated. The village that indirectly caused my mother's murder and for me to become an orphan.

I could barely contain my disdain. _Zabuza_ , I mentally spat. _Momochi_ _Zabuza_. A fictional antagonist. A murderer. An assassin. A "shinobi."

The word escaped my mouth before I even had a moment to stop myself.

I truly despised being a child and the uncontrollable impulses that came with it. Oh, the _perks_ of having a mind that didn't align with your physical age.

His eyes moved ever so slightly to the right, so that his gaze was no longer on Haku, but on me.

He wasn't hesitant to make eye contact.

I, on the other hand, was. But it seemed I wasn't able to look anywhere else. I felt so small in his presence. But, Haku was right. He did have the same eyes as us. He had the kind of eyes that held pain. That had seen more than a human should. The kind that lacked hope, but still held...tenacity.

Despite the array of particular emotions circulating my system, it wasn't a look of fear which I gave him, nor was it one of panic or weakness.

No, again, _without my control_ , my body acted partially on its own. My bottom jaw clenched itself and my eyes narrowed. The bubbling feeling in my stomach and throat made itself even more apparent. Fear was not the overwhelming emotion I was feeling, as much as I _was_ overwhelmed by it. No, the most prominent was anger. Confusion. _Hate_.

I was so full of hate for this world. He was confirmation of the fact that I was indeed an inhabitant to a world that I hated; he was confirmation of the fact I was trapped _in a world of hate._

I was trapped in a world of death, of war, of corruption, and of hate.

And this man was meant the one who took the one thing that I loved away from me. The only person that I held love for that was alive. He was meant to be the reason Haku died, and he wouldn't even have cared were it not for the words of Naruto.

Naruto…The 'Narutoverse'. Uzumaki _Naruto_. The one who this entire universe was based around back in my old life. The hero. The 'ray of sunshine' who would make all the problems go away. The one who would cause an era of world peace. The fucking _prophecy child._

How ridiculous it all sounded.

I suppose he is the one who'll end up uniting the shinobi nations, but since when did peace ever last? And who was meant to sort out the world of the civilians—the _daimyo_? The corrupt bastards who only care for money and power and use shinobi as their little puppets?

 _True peace can never be achieved._

I wasn't used to the amount of cynicism or pessimism which currently filled my mind, but optimistic thoughts and positive feelings seemed to have left my system a long time ago. Everything was becoming dark.

Ice and snow only kill. The cold only hurts life. The clouds that carry the rain and snow block out the sun. They block out the light. Snow, seemingly, is beautiful, but no one ever considers the fact that everything underneath it is dead. Were it not for the sun that comes and melts it away, life wouldn't grow again. A tree wouldn't bud. A flower would never blossom.

Ignoring the urge to continue my inner musings, I focused my attention back on Zabuza.

"If hunger doesn't get to you first, the cold will. Huh, I'm surprised it hasn't already." He joked. His sardonic comment only further causing my blood to boil.

But that was the thing. The cold didn't hurt us. I was alive with even all the snow and ice. It was a part of me. I was a part of _it_. I could grow without the light and warmth, but what a desolate existence that is. Only ever feeling the cold, but never truly.

As much as it was extremely ironic to want to find sanctuary in the person whom you considered the embodiment of all the askew 'morals' of this world, he was our only option if we wanted to become strong. And, well, to not die.

"The cold doesn't affect us, Mister." I announced feebly. The shakiness in my voice wasn't from the nervousness I was feeling. My fear wasn't making itself particularly apparent at the moment. The shakiness was from how weak I was. I was physically and mentally drained. I just wanted refuge.

His head perked up ever so slightly more. What I had said seemed to get his attention.

Silence ensued. I simply waited for a response. My brother seemed to just stare, wonder filling his eyes at Zabuza, who was unknown to him. Maybe he viewed him as a beacon of hope, or, as he said, he was simply able to see that his eyes had the same lack as ours. Lack of zest; lack of sparkle; lack of life.

Even though I did not like this man, I did hold the _slightest_ inkling of sympathy towards Zabuza. The slightest inkling of gratitude. In this world—in the version where I did not exist—he was the reason my brother didn't die. He was also simply victim of the cruel systems of this world. A perfect puppet that would eventually rebel. He was what these hidden villages wanted to create, only they wanted control over them. There was also an inkling of respect, because he did try and fight back. Only, he deceived my brother and would most likely try to deceive me also in order to reach that goal.

"Do you two want to be needed by someone?"

He was referring to his earlier statement. _"Kids like you won't be needed by anyone."_

Really, the question would've made more sense as 'Do you want to be indoctrinated so I can make you believe that you're just my tools and that your purpose in life is to serve me to give you a false sense of being of being needed?'

But, we were just naïve young children to him. He had no idea of my extensive knowledge of him and his goals. Of his future. And, if I were to answer question he actually asked, then the answer would be yes. But that wasn't the question that we needed to answer. 'Do _we_ need _him_?' was the real question. And, again, the answer was yes.

He really didn't need us. We were but merely things he wanted to use as pawns. But he knew we needed him were we to have any chance of survival. We were quite literally clinging to life, and we weren't going to be able to last much longer.

Haku stood, grabbing my hand as he did. I followed. As I did, I felt the fatigue of being awoken prematurely wash over me, but I continued on. It wasn't as if I had regular sleep patterns to adhere to anyway. I just needed sleep, but my body was beginning to grow used to running off such little of it.

Once within Zabuza's reach, he looped his arm around us, and we began to walk.

That was our answer. This was it. The 'embarking of a new adventure'. The training to become a ninja. The abandonment of normal civilian society. The road to recovery, maybe.

This was where it really began.

* * *

 _Two hands longing for each other's warmth,_

 _Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats_


	6. V: Maelstrom

**It's been an entire year, but here's another chapter.**

* * *

Maelstrom

 _Chapter Song: Ben Moon ft. Veela - Majesty_

 **5 months later**

"Long hoodies aren't the most ninja-appropriate attire, runt." Zabuza scoffed. I chuckled inwardly, amused at the lack of any real disdain behind his voice.

"I'm going to learn how to do one-handed seals anyway, so it doesn't matter." I flopped down from the branch I was sat upon, allowing only my legs to hang around the branch. The hoodie was indeed long, and the sleeves easily covered my hands while still having enough length for the remaining fabric to fold over on itself when I lifted my arms, but it was Zabuza's fault for leaving me alone in a shop. I came. I saw. I _stole_.

He wasn't wearing his usual bandaged mask, and I didn't fail to notice how the side of his lip tugged upward ever so slightly. "I don't know why you're so convinced you'll learn how to do one-handed seals. It's a hard feat to achieve, and that's coming from someone who knows how to do them."

 _Because my brother did._

Not yet, but he would.

"Why are you so convinced I _won't_ be able to learn how to? I learned how to mold chakra around my body and walk on water in two months with no prior training whatsoever. Personally, I think I can do it."

"I learnt how to in one month, kid."

I narrowed my eyes at Zabuza, who was sitting on the floor sharpening some kunai, and currently looked upside down from my hanging position. "And I'm from a civilian background."

"As well as from one of the most notorious clans the elemental nations have ever known." He retorted.

I grimaced slightly, recalling the _history lesson_ about our clan that Zabuza gave me and Haku. The persecution and suspicion of the clan had been around since the warring states periods, but the true purge of the clan had begun twenty years or so prior, during the Third Shinobi War. That was when the true slaughter began, and it was under Yagura, who was still in power now, where the ninjas were actually encouraged to get rid of us. It was under Yagura that even civilians came to view us as abominations—as threats. I was under the impression that we were a clan driven out for decades, but I was wrong apparently.

I had a theory that Obito was the one who really commanded our downfall, though. Being a clan with a bloodline, we had an advantage most didn't when it came to the Sharingan. That made us a threat, thus he capitalised on the pre-existing hostility and prejudice against us, and attempted to wipe every last one of us out. We weren't the only ones, though. Other clans hid their abilities, and other clans fled from Kirigakure.

And, apparently according to stories and rumours, our clan possessed some super rare ability or something, but Zabuza wasn't even sure what it was. They were all unconfirmed, and all varied from person to person. Some claimed our hair turned white, some claimed we froze entire towns, some claimed we were the reason certain parts of the Land of Water never stopped snowing. It was all quite outlandish, really.

"Notorious, yet all still murdered in cold blood." I commented.

"You were also one of the most formidable clans _in cold blood_."

I sneered, ignoring the blood rushing to my head. That was the thing that had given our bloodline away to Zabuza; the fact we weren't actually affected by the cold. Which was, most likely, the reason he actually decided to pick us up—although he hadn't and most likely wouldn't admit that outright.

He just happened to stumble across some amazingly rare assets who he believed he could mold into compliant accomplices in his impending attempt of a revolt.

But I guess I didn't hate him as much as I had.

His training was certainly good. And efficient. There wasn't a day my muscles didn't scream at me to stop going through such vigorous training regime, or that my chakra pathways didn't burn from the strain, or a day where I didn't learn something new. Not since we started.

And yet, there also wasn't a time I had felt so _alive_.

Zabuza talked more than I an anticipated. Even now, in the night, when my brother was asleep but I refused to be. (Because I suppose I now viewed the sense of security of sleep a rather untrustworthy thing, and even the S-class ninja being with us didn't make me feel safe that someone wasn't going to murder me in my sleep.)

Despite the selfish motivation he had, I felt an undeniable sense of gratitude toward him. I hated myself for it, but yet I had to admit to myself that he saved me and my brother—that he was looking after us.

 _We're just tools to him_ , I told myself, _don't get caught up._

I chose to change the conversation. I didn't want to dwell on the clan I had been the deprived of, nor the mother.

"Do you think life is worse for a shinobi or a civilian?"

"A shinobi, definitely."

"Why?"

"Far more death. Far more betrayal." He paused, a pensive look forming on his face. "Life is more brutal. You're trained to be a puppet from an early age—you're raised to be a killer, stripped of your emotion, and told to not let it get in the way. Your worth is dependent on your strength and ability to absentmindedly serve the village."

"Don't you become used to all the pain and death at some point?" I asked, almost hopefully.

"You become used to the killing, but never losing a comrade. You just become more able to moderate the way you react. You're expected to let your anger drive you, but never enough to cloud your judgement or take over your impulse. The feeling of losing a comrade never goes away."

 _Careful, Zabuza. Your humanity is showing_

I flipped off of the tree branch, perhaps a little too dramatically, and landed on the floor beneath, only narrowly avoiding the fire. Perhaps I should've been more focused on the landing than the execution, but I kind of did have a flair for the dramatic. Particularly when it came to my newfound love, acrobatics. I had always been rather flexible growing up in this life, but that had only become enhanced when the whole shinobi training thing started. Slowly, it was becoming a rather integral part of my fighting style.

And I had a pretty strong kick, too.

"You know, as much as I agree that shinobi have a generally 'worse' life, I think civilians react to the emotional turmoil of death a lot worse." Zabuza's eyes fell on me as I sat on the log across from him, prompting me to continue. "You see, shinobi are exposed to death and killing from an early age. They're basically taught how to deal with it—how to not let it interfere with everyday life. Civilians aren't—they don't have that."

He turned his eyes away again. "Death is a far less common thing in the civilian world."

My own eyes stared blankly at the fire in front of me. "Not if you're caught in the crossfire."

Zabuza had stopped questioning why I seemed 'wise beyond my days' and spoke so sophisticatedly for a child, especially with the lack of a formal education. I told him I had an old soul. He said didn't believe me. I laughed.

"You forget that murder and crime and violence and corruption all exist outside of the world of ninja." I allowed myself to think of my old life for a moment, and of the world I lived in, and of every evil thing that plagued it. "Gangs, criminal organisations, wars...these aren't ninja specific things. They're all things _normal_ people indulge in. They're all things civilians are subjected to. Death definitely isn't this foreign thing that only comes with old age. Civilian life, it's…I don't think it is worse, per se, I just think civilians are less adept."

A few awkward moments of silence followed, before Zabuza finally spoke. "I still think life for a shinobi is worse."

I sighed in defeat. If this world was the same as the one in my last life, I would have disagreed with him vehemently. However, in this life, "I think I agree."

We had yet to go to Kiri. Zabuza had a particular disdain for the village—more specifically, Yagura—so he chose to travel instead. Yagura didn't mind, as long as he remained loyal to the village. He still completed missions, but the missions were sent via scroll via hawks. And, since Zabuza usually was expected to do assassination missions, being a Bingo Book worthy ex-ANBU and all, he would have to send the bodies of those he had killed back in scrolls also.

I wasn't particularly bothered by the assassination missions, though. It was good practise and experience for me and Haku, but it was odd getting used to the dead bodies. And, well, killing someone. I had yet to do it myself, but I had seen it plenty of times.

Hawks were a useful thing too, I decided. And the Land of Water native ones were particularly pretty.

However, Zabuza was currently mission-less, and we had one final destination before we finally went to _the Village Hidden by the Bloody Mist_ , and that was the one and only Uzushiogakure. Or whatever was left of it. The village had been destroyed before Zabuza's lifetime, but Kiri had been heavily involved in orchestrating its downfall according to him. It was understandable, in some ways. Although being closer to Hi no Kuni rather than Mizu, both Uzushio and Kiri were islands in the same bit of sea. Kiri wanted to eliminate its enemies, and thus Uzushio was destroyed.

We weren't going there for a history lesson, though.

As time went on, I began to realise there were many aspects of this world the anime or manga had never explored, one of which was the fact Uzushio loved to steal information from other villages and clans, meaning they most likely had scrolls including Yuki clan jutsu. I could only imagine what they did with that information when coupled with their fuinjutsu.

Whether they did or didn't have any scrolls, the plan after that was for Zabuza to return to the village and infiltrate the village archives and retrieve all the scrolls they had stolen from the clan. We had already started our ninjutsu training, but we were limited to the water jutsu and very _random_ manifestations of ice. If Haku and I ever started arguing, especially as our chakra reserves grew bigger, it wasn't exactly uncommon for the temperature to considerably drop around us, or for us not to breathe out a very much sub-zero breath of air.

It seemed our bloodline was one that responded to emotion, somewhat like the sharingan, and if that reflected on the battlefield then I may have just been beginning to understand just why Kiri was so afraid of us.

"Byaku." Zabuza began in a dangerously low voice, suddenly worryingly still. "Wake up Haku."

What he was looking at, I wasn't sure. Regardless, all my nerves and senses were suddenly on high alert. I quickly ran over to my Haku's tent, shaking him awake.

"Haku." No response. " _Haku_." He groaned. "Wake up!" I whispered in the loudest way I could.

 _Crunch_. I quickly turned my head to the direction of the sound, only to see a kunai flying toward myself.

 _Fuck_.

I quickly threw myself back, narrowly dodging the blade and almost falling on my butt as I did so. Haku seemed to catch sight of it too, since he was quickly on his feet, wiping away any remaining sleep from his eyes. We stood back to back, in the same way we had been trained. The attacks could come from any direction, and we needed to have each other's back.

Whoever through the blade wasn't trying to kill me—they didn't aim for my head or throat. They were trying to keep me, or us, alive. That, or they just had awful aim.

For some reason, the thought that they could be trying to capture us was more unnerving than the thought of them trying to kill us, because it meant they wanted us for something.

Zabuza began to expel mist from his mouth, encasing the surrounding area in mist. It meant Haku and I would basically be in the dark the whole time, but Zabuza would be able to hear every breath, every muscle, and every heartbeat. That was the beauty of the silent killing and hiding in the mist technique; your hearing had to fine-tune to be able to hear every sound usually inaudible to the human ear. It took years of training, and years of constant channelling of chakra specifically to your ears, and Haku and I were nowhere near that point.

But, I did hear the sound of a body drop. And then another. And then another.

Whoever was trying to kill us wasn't skilled enough to take on Zabuza, it seemed.

Not even needing to reach inside my weapon pouch, the mist began to disperse, revealing Zabuza holding the head of what seemed to be the last assailant above the fire. The ninja, whose fear was only emphasised by the flames reflecting in his already very watery eyes, let out a cry of fear. His knees began to shake, which only prompted Zabuza to further push the blade closer to his throat.

I couldn't help but watch in gruesome wonder at how his blood rolled down the blade and into the fire.

"Talk." Zabuza commanded.

"We heard r-rumour that the Demon of the Hidden Mist," He gulped, "was in the Land of Fire with two kids that possessed a rare bloodline, and w-we were sent to kill Zabuza and bring the kids back to Konoha!" He blurted out, eyes shut tightly as the fire's flames became too much to bear.

"We're being watched." Zabuza slowly muttered under his breath, as if considering whether the words could be true.

I felt a lump in my throat. Haku and I were now targets. Again. Because someone—someone wanted us. Someone had been watching us. And, if they really were from Konoha, then I had my bets on who. But there was a complete lack of any headband, as well as any Konoha looking ninja attire, so they could've been from anywhere.

The shinobi pretty average looking face. A wider nose than most, and pretty unmemorable looking grey eyes which were accompanied by somewhat bushy eyebrows. Was this one of the ever-fated _extras_? One of the irrelevant characters nobody cares about?

Exciting.

I picked up a stick from the ground and crouched next to him, poking his face with the blunt twig. His eyes opened in absolute fear, only to be greeted by the face of an eight-year-old girl staring back at him. I couldn't help but be amused. It was a lousy _and_ scared extra, too.

"And who is it that wanted us?" I asked him, continuing to poke with the stick, edging closer to his eyes with each poke. If he didn't answer the questions correctly, then his eye would be the victim.

 _Please don't answer the question correctly. Just once or twice._

"Danzo! Danzo was the one who sent us!"

It seemed Zabuza was content with me asking the questions since he didn't seem to protest when I pulled his jaw open and grabbed his tongue out of his mouth. "You're lying!" I exclaimed. He wasn't apart of root. He didn't have the stupid tattoo on his tongue. "You wouldn't have been able to tell us all this if Danzo was the one that sent you!"

A look of realisation dawned upon his face, and before either Zabuza or I had a chance to react, he pushed himself further into the blade, slicing his throat and, consequently, pushing his face into the flames.

I stared, dumbfounded, as the blood from his jugular began to pool around my feet, and the smell of charred flesh began to fill my nostrils. It was sickening, really.

Zabuza scoffed, dropping his body away from the fire.

"Someone's after us..." Haku spoke, watching with a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

Someone was after us. Someone, who most likely wasn't sent by Danzo. Or at least wasn't apart of root. And was loyal enough to whoever sent them to kill themselves were we to get close enough to finding out their identity. It didn't make sense. And it was a lousy assassination attempt—too great of an underestimation of Zabuza to even be an underestimation. I wouldn't have been surprised if Danzo was trying to get his grimy paws on our bloodline, but I also knew he was far too smart to send such unskilled ninja to take on Zabuza.

Walking over to one of the bodies, I picked up the dead ninja's weapon pouch, only to find the headband of a village I would've much rather not had an encounter with, especially not this early on. But, it seemed, no matter how many times I looked at it, the etched music note didn't seem to go away.

That goddamn _snake_.

* * *

We left quickly. It was unlikely another ambush was going to happen so shortly after, but we decided that since we were being watched that it was probably in our best interest to move fast.

Zabuza asked me how I knew he was lying, and I said it was a shitty way of trying to make sure he was telling the truth. As much as it didn't go the way I had planned, it at least told us that he was lying. I couldn't explain the whole root thing, since I'd have no way of explaining how I knew things about the corruption within a village I had never even been to. Zabuza was annoyed, since he wanted more intel, but better that than ending up in an inexplicable predicament.

The boat ride to Uzushio would have been relaxing, since Zabuza was doing all the work, were it not for the fact it seemed Orochimaru was keeping tabs on us. No doubt for his stupid little experiments. But he wasn't an idiot, so the assassination attempt didn't make sense. He knew to send better ninjas than those.

And, if memory served me correct, Orochimaru should've still been a part of Akatsuki. It was possible he created otogakure before or during being a part of Akatsuki, but I wasn't sure. And using Danzo as an excuse?

I had the mind of someone who had been alive for 20 plus years, yet I couldn't seem to figure it out. When I did figure out something, I'd mention the fact they were otogakure nin rather than—what Zabuza assumed to be—defected Konoha nin. For now, it would raise too many questions, and it was better if both Haku and Zabuza, and myself, stayed focus purely on training. I knew Zabuza would be far more alert than he previously had been, since, even if those guys were now dead, someone had been watching us, but his main priority still remained in trying to perform a successful coup d'état.

The whole thing was bothering me so much that I was almost unable to appreciate the beauty that was the ruins of Uzushio, since I was too distracted by my thoughts to even pay heed to my surroundings. Whatever battle (or _battles_ ) that had taken part here must have been monumental, since half the buildings were now reduced to mere rubble and dust.

But the architecture that did remain was breath-taking. It was like walking through the ruins of Pompeii—a city (or, in this case, village) fallen, but all the glory it once stood in still lingering. Except here, unlike Pompeii, the paint on the buildings still remained, even if chipped and fading. The architecture wasn't tame like the civilian cities, or what I could remember of the anime version of Konoha. Instead, all the buildings were painted in shades of glorious red, orange and pink, and adorned with the richest browns and golds.

I could only describe it as a fusion of ancient Roman or Greek architecture, with pillars built everywhere, yet still holding all the traditional elements of Japanese buildings and architecture. There were, of course, some more modern looking buildings also, but the only thing I was paying attention to about them was the array of Uzushio swirls on each of them. The symbol of their beloved whirlpools which, ultimately, failed to protect them.

It was ironic, really.

"How do we know where to go?" Haku asked Zabuza, pulling me out of my mesmerisation as I mindlessly followed behind them.

I hurriedly run up to my brother to catch up, intertwining my own arm with his. He looked down at me, giving me a small smile as he did so. I smiled back, feigning childish innocence. We were polar opposites, Haku and I. He was quiet and always spoke with utmost respect, and he was kind of every bit of life he came across. It wasn't in his nature to hurt. I, on the other hand, was impudent and defiant and fiery. In an endearing way, though.

My brother's hair had begun to grow significantly longer and now reached his shoulders. As much as I liked it, it didn't particularly help his case in looking any less like a girl. Our faces had started looking slightly less alike as we got older—he had narrower features, mine were slightly rounder—but the long hair made him look like me again. Just taller.

"When this village was destroyed, it seemed they didn't find their stash of scrolls. Or, this particular stash of scrolls. About a year ago, a few friends of mine"—'friends' being Zabuza talk for people he was plotting the coup against Yagura with—"went through this place. Found these scrolls that were hidden, took the ones they were interested in and left the rest. They said I might have some luck here."

Zabuza had only alerted a few trusted individuals that he was training two kids with the Ice Release. While the attempt of a revolution wasn't intended to take place any time soon, the intended date had been set back even further with us being thrown into the mix. We were now an integral part of the plan. Key assets in trying to kill the mizukage.

It seemed we did have luck. It was a building I would've never suspected held stolen clan scrolls, especially due to the fact it was half destroyed but, alas, the Uzumaki were genius, and the foreign ninja would've probably never thought to raid what looked like a trinket shop.

"How do we even know which ones to check?" I groaned in frustration. "They're all thrown across the floor, and they all look exactly the same."

"We open them all up individually." Zabuza said, showing no hint of kidding.

I let out a small laugh and smiled wryly. "Yeah okay, _that's_ not going to happen."

Zabuza said nothing, and Haku knelt to the floor and began undoing a scroll.

My smile dropped. "You—no, you're joking. There's _hundreds_."

It seemed, Zabuza was not kidding.

* * *

"This is soul draining." I mumbled, opening up scroll number 163. I didn't know whether keeping count was helping or not, but I felt as if it at least gave me some sort of control over my slowly spiralling sanity. This was excruciatingly, mind numbingly _boring_. I didn't even know how many Zabuza or Haku had opened.

Not every scroll we opened was completely useless, though. Some were rare wind and water techniques, and I wasn't about to limit myself to only ice jutsu, so I picked them up also. I also happened to stumble across a super old Uchiha one, and I couldn't help but put it in my backpack should I ever one day have the chance to give it to Sasuke. But, the rest were useless to me.

"I found one!" I heard from my brother and I swore, in that moment, I could've hugged Haku to death.

"Let me see it!" I insisted, eager to see what type of techniques it had. I skimmed over each one, reading the titles of each to get an idea of what was on it. Most of the techniques were about utilising the whole controlled body temperature thing, but not all. One of them was particularly interesting, though. The _Zettai Zero_ technique. Or, in other words, Absolute Zero.

It was derived from another technique on the scroll—the _'air freeze technique'_ —and, in short, it consisted of the user dropping the surroundings temperature to -237 degrees Celsius, and essentially killed all life in the area to the point it could never grow back. Maybe that was why it was written in big red ink, as if it were trying to give a warning, or maybe it was because of the fact the technique causes the user to suffer considerable chakra depletion, as they have to keep their own body temperature at a level which they can endure, as well as drop the surrounding temperature to the lowest possible.

That would take...monstrous amounts of chakra. It had to be an S-Rank, even if it was a short-range technique. There was no way it couldn't be an S-rank technique.

Zabuza hovered over me, his eyes skimming over the scroll too.

"This means we're done, right? We can go now?" I asked, not even bothering to conceal the hope in my voice.

"There could be more." He answered back, and my eye twitched.

"Surely this is enough!" I nearly shrilled. I was annoyingly impatient. Again, not one of my usual traits, but instead a by-product of my age. At least that's what I thought, anyway. When Zabuza's resolve, once again, did not budge, I stood up and sighed. " _Fine_. But I'm going to go read this scroll and find out how this whole-body temperature thing works while you two continue. Who knows, maybe I'll even have learnt a technique or two by the time we're done here."

And so, I got up and left the building, ignoring my brother's light protests as I did so, and sat on a clear patch of grass next to the building. Or, the clearest patch of grass I could find, considering the copious amounts of rubble everywhere. Haku was free to join me, but he was too concerned with pleasing Zabuza. I'd have to do something about that soon, since I wanted to avoid Haku ending wrapped around his finger and making his every wish his command. I wanted to avoid him becoming a tool that served Zabuza and Zabuza only. Whatever it took, I wouldn't let that happen. I needed to reassure him that, even if we needed Zabuza now, we wouldn't need him forever. We could leave, eventually.

The sun had begun to set, and the orange of the sky only seemed to emphasise the warm colours of the walls. I allowed myself a moment to breathe—a moment to take in nothing but the peace, and the pure serenity of it all. Ever since the night my father killed my mother, and tried to kill me, I didn't know peace. Even now with Zabuza, life was so fast-paced, even if better. I had to bask in these moments of bliss when I could, since they were fleeting.

But I couldn't allow myself to get too caught up, either, because my life would never know peace again. Not as a ninja; not since that night. If I allowed myself to enjoy the peace for too long, I would become deluded by it—I'd crave it so badly that I'd naively fool myself into believing that one day, maybe, it'd become attainable. It never would. Peace was a momentary thing, only lasting a few minutes before we're once again thrown back into the chaos of our lives.

Maybe it was ironic that I found such serenity in a place of death and destruction, but maybe it highlighted just how much better off earth would be without our presence, no matter what version it was. All we did was wreak havoc in order to fulfil our own selfish desires and I—I was no different. I didn't care what I had to do, as long as it meant my brother and I could stay safe.

So, after the moment was over, I began to read the scroll which, unbeknownst to me, would become the first step in becoming known as the 'The Rabbit of the Snow'; the _Yuki no Usagi_.

* * *

 **I am so sorry I have been gone for so long. Bad mental health is mostly to blame, as well as school.**

 **Anyway, I have a very extensive list of all the jutsu I've created for Byaku, since there's very few ice release techniques on narutowikia. RadioPoisoning's suggestion of using the crystal release as a source of inspiration was really helpful, so thank you for that.**

 **I promise updates will become more frequent once I've finished my GCSEs, so bear with me until then.**

 **Review, maybe?**


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